


your name, what's your name?

by 80slieberher



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, and then forgot to ever post it lmao, its not rlly anything i was just bored one day, so i sat down and wrote it, tiny coffee shop au for my gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 18:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13576623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80slieberher/pseuds/80slieberher
Summary: i dont really have any notes for this its just a fluffy oneshot. a lot of my tumblr readers are saying its a good make-up for chapter 8 of 24k lmao (if u wanna read some angst check out my other works!!)this also sat in my tumblr drafts for 3 months idk why i didnt publish it





	your name, what's your name?

**Author's Note:**

> i dont really have any notes for this its just a fluffy oneshot. a lot of my tumblr readers are saying its a good make-up for chapter 8 of 24k lmao (if u wanna read some angst check out my other works!!)  
> this also sat in my tumblr drafts for 3 months idk why i didnt publish it

Bill listens to the door bell chime as a new customer enters, the Starbucks he worked at unusually empty this late Saturday morning. He doesn’t bother to glance up from the woman he was taking an order from, his green visor blocking the upper half of his prepherial vision anyway.

“V-venti latte with c-caramel,” He smiles up at her politely, scribbling ‘Linda’ down on the cup, “Coming r-right up.”

One would think having to talk to strangers so often would aid Bill in improving his stutter that haunted him from childhood - but it only made it worse. Bill is forever uncomfortable with the concept of talking to strangers - a gift his little brother hadn’t been blessed with.

Bill hands the cup to his friend and co-worker, Ben, who actually prepares the drinks, with a smile that says ‘God, I can’t wait until our shifts are over,’ and Ben silently answers with a funny look and an eyebrow raise that says ‘Tell me about it.’

Bill is in the midst of speaking as turns to the next customer in line, his routine “Welcome to St-Starbucks, how m-may I help you?” escaping his lips without him thinking about it. He’s looking down at the register when the customer replies, Bill glancing up from under his visor.

“Can I get a tall vanilla latte?” The curly haired boy across the counter smiles at him, holding his wallet in his hands. Bill is dumbstruck for only a moment, taking in the appearance of this guy’s jawline and smile and hair and  _eyes, wow he has really pretty eyes_ , before he remembers he’s at work and actually has to do his job - and that would be not ogling the customers.

“Y-yeah,” He fumbles, eyes darting down to the register hastily to punch in the order, “Th-th-that’ll be three ninty five.” He sputters out quickly, hoping his stutter wasn’t too obvious, but of course it was and he knew it. ‘ _God, stupid Stuttering Bill,_ ’ He cursed himself in his head.

The other boy hands over a five dollar bill, and Bill silently makes change across the counter, trying to come off as casual as possible. He hands the receipt to the boy.

“N-name?” He asks, picking up a cup and grabbing the sharpie from behind his ear.

“Stanley,” The boy answers politely, keeping the smile up.  _God, he’s really pretty_.

Bill scribbles this down on the cup before the boy, Stanley, speaks again. “How about you?”

Bill half-grins, going to answer but not really understanding what he’d been asked. Taking people’s names was so routine - he wasn’t used to people asking for his.

“Your name,” Stanley laughed a bit, “What’s your name?”

In Bill’s mind, he completely fumbles. Here was a cute boy, asking for his name, and he couldn’t even get that out. His instincts take over, and the grin on his transforms into a smirk - and he simply winks, before walking over to Ben and handing him the cup, not noticing Stanley’s cheeks blush light pink.

When he returns to the register, Stanley had already moved to take a seat at a small table.

Bill takes a few more customers before his shift is up. He’d been glancing at Stanley every once in a while from the corner of his eye throughout the half hour he stayed in the cafe, and spies a napkin left at the now-empty table for one.

Hanging up his apron, Bill makes his way over to the table, expecting the napkin to simply be trash he’d have to clean up anyway. But it’s not trash - there’s something scrawled on it in blue pen.

_Is it Andrew?_

‘ _Nope_ ,’ Bill answers in his head, ‘ _Not Andrew._ ’

It’s another week before Bill sees Stanley again. It’s Saturday morning again, around the same time as last week - 11:30, to be exact - when the curly haired boy walks through the chiming door. This time, Bill notices a book clutched in his hand, a bird drawn on the cover.

Bill might have forgotten about Stanley if he hadn’t hoped every morning for the past week to see him again. People who came into the shop tended to make it a regular, and Bill hoped Stanley would be one of those people. Luckily, it seemed so now.

He walks up to the counter and Bill hopes the excitement he feels inside doesn’t show on the outside. ‘ _Be cool, Blubber Bill_.’

“Tall vanilla latte, please,” He smiles before Bill even has the chance to ask, walking up to the empty counter. He’s already tucked the book under his arm and is taking out his money.

“C-coming up, that’s-”

“Three ninty-five,” Stanley finishes, handing over the money.

Bill looks up from under his long eyelashes and shoots a smile as he punches it in, handing the receipt with the nickel to Stanley.

“Stanley?” Bill quirks an eyebrow as he jots down the name, as if he’d forgotten.

“You can call me Stan, and I can call you…?” Stan tries again, smiling and raising his eyebrows expectantly. Bill chuckles.

“N-not A-A-Andrew,” He says, breathy laugh still apparent, turning away with the cup in his hands. He hears Stan walk away, and sees him taking the same table he had last week.

Bill seizes the moment he has alone with the cup, not having another person to tend to, quickly doing a sketch of what looked like a dove below the name he’d written. It isn’t particularly good, as Bill knows it could have been if he’d been able to practice or actually put in effort; but it was only a doodle.

He hands the cup to Ben after this, saying only, “V-vanilla latte,” and knowing the blush on his cheeks was obvious. Ben simply looks between him and the cup, only giving him a look, but turning away wordlessly.

At the end of Bill’s shift, he hangs his apron and makes his way to Stanley’s - er, Stan’s - spot, spying the napkin left there a second time.

_So, not Andrew? How about Noah?_

Bill tries to hold his mouth together but the smile shows anyway. He crumples the napkin and puts it in his pocket the same way he had last week.

‘Nope, not Noah.’

Weeks go by, and it’s definitely safe to say now that Stan is a regular, and Bill makes persistent effort to never miss his Saturday morning shifts.

They’d exchanged a few personal details over the course of their weekly flirtations - well, Stan had. Bill learned that Stan comes in every Saturday after bird-watching in the morning (though he was concerned he might have to stop since it was getting so cold - and Bill wondered sadly at this if it meant Stan would stop coming in), that he’s Jewish, and that he gets his hair cut routinely - once exactly every two months.

Bill, on the other hand, simply asked questions. He memorized Stan’s simple and usual order - and they still played their name-guessing game, and every week he draws a new bird on Stan’s cup. He’s even taken to looking up pictures of birds and practicing doodling them on Friday nights.

Stan’s never mentioned these doodles, but Bill has caught him admiring his cup on more than one occasion.

He thinks again on all the names Stan had guessed.  _Andrew, Noah, Patrick, Jack, Alex, Thomas, Chris_. He wonders briefly if Bill or William or even Will is so hard to guess while the door swings open, bell jingling.

He smiles at the familiar curly head of hair, making eye contact from across the cafe.

“D-don’t tell m-me,” Bill grins, “Tall vanilla l-latte.”

“Actually,” Stan smirks childishly, “‘Tis the season, you know, and I thought I might get something…  _festive_. I’ll take a tall peppermint latte.”

“Sw-switching it up, are we?” Bill teases. He picks up the cup he’d already set on the counter. (He’d gotten a little ahead of himself and already doodled Stan’s name in bubble letters and a bird called a ‘tit’ under it.)

“That’ll b-be…” Bill trails off with his eyebrows raised, Stan handing over the four dollars he always did before Bill could finish.

“So, t-t-tomorrow is the fuh-first day of Hanukkah,” Bill starts, not even moving to give Ben Stan’s order. It could wait. He sees Stan’s cheeks flush pink at his remembrance of the simple detail. “Is th-there anything you w-want?”

Stan chuckles. “Hmm, no,” He obviously pretends to think. He smirks, and Bill is confused, but smiles back anyway for the sole reason that Stan is cute.

“O-oh,” Bill flushes awkwardly, “Uhh, I’ll, uh, g-get your d-drink.”

“Okay,” Stan laughs. Fully laughs. It’s not something Bill hears often, so he cherishes the adorable sound. Stan moves to his regular table and sits. 

Ben gives Bill a pointed look and a sort of giggle when Bill hands him the cup and Bill blushes harder.

Bill watches Stan more carefully than usual today - him being one of the two only customers in, which is odd, but Bill doesn’t mind.

Bill observes Stan write on a new napkin with the same blue pen he always uses, and he’s excited to see Stan’s new guess. When Stan leaves, he shoots Bill a soft smile and Bill winks at him (out of instinct once again) as he exits.

Bill is quick to retrieve the napkin - he doesn’t even wait until the end of his shift today.

_Things Stanley Uris Wants For Hanukkah:_

  * _The name of the cute barista at Starbucks_
  * _The number of said cute Starbucks barista_



Bill’s cheeks go dark red. He doesn’t know if he can wait another week - but he’ll have to.

The next Saturday, Bill waits at the register, a napkin with his messy handwriting in sharpie folded in his pocket. He goes over the mental image of it once again.

_Happy Hanukkah - (738) 273-1839_

_Signed, Bill Denbrough (cute starbucks barista)_

_**((a/n: please don’t really call this number i button smashed it))** _

But Stan doesn’t come in at 11:30. or 11:45. Or even 12. It’s 12:15 and Bill is still loitering around the cafe. His shift ended 15 minutes ago, and the shop is desolate. He’s sitting at Stan’s table, sipping an americano, deciding to wait another five minutes before leaving.

When Ben sits down with him, Bill doesn’t make contact.

“So who’s the guy you’re waiting for?” He questions. Bill looks up, eyebrows furrowed in question.

“Oh, c’mon, Bill. You get heart eyes every week when the guy walks in - you’ve memorized his order, you doodle birds on his cups, and now - on the one saturday I haven’t made a tall vanilla latte - you’re sitting here moping at his table. Who is he?”

Bill sighs, “His n-name is Stanley, or Stan, and w-wwe’ve been flirting sin-since…. Well, suh-s-ssince he started cuh-coming in, and uh-“

Bill is cut off by the bell chiming loudly and a boy with thick glasses and a mop of dark hair stumbling in. “Which one of you- Which on of you is Stanley’s cute barista?” He’s quite out of breath.

Bill watches Ben’s eyebrows raise to him and his cheeks blush light pink. “I-I guess th-that’s me…”

“He wants me to tell you he’s sick and couldn’t come today. He said if he had a way to contact you he would’ve done it himself, but I’m his messenger pigeon for the day,” He rolls his eyes, “By the way, are you guys hiring?” The boy is now leaning on the counter, looking expectantly at Bill and Ben.

“We are, actually. I’ll get you an application.” Ben smiles and turns around the corner into the back room, leaving Bill alone with Stan’s friend.

“So you’re the guy Stan the Man won’t shut up about,” He looks Bill up and down and Bill almost cringes under his stare, until his face breaks into a smile, “I’m Richie. And you are?”

Bill smirks and chews his bottom lip, taking the napkin from his pocket. “B-Bill, and yuh-you can tell him I suh-sssaid that.” He hands Richie the napkin, and Richie scans over his written before smirking back at Bill and shoving it into his own pocket.

“Alright, Big Bill, I catch your drift,” Richie begins with a smile before turning very suddenly grave, “But if you ever hurt Stan, your dick will be on a plate faster than light.” He smiles again, “That being said, you look like a nice guy, so we won’t have to worry about that.”

Bill chuckles uncomfortably and nods before Ben returns with the papers and helps Richie fill them in.

Hours later when Bill’s phone rings, he doesn’t look twice at the unknown number before picking it up eagerly.

“H-hello?”

“Hi, it’s Stan - if this isn’t my cute Starbucks barista this is gonna be awkward.” Bill lsitens to Stan laugh nervously and swoons.

“N-no, this is Bill. Hi, Stuh-Stan.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Bill.”


End file.
